The Girl Who Chased Sunsets

“Cool as a Cucumber“

Kate Shoyer met Kylie during their freshman year at Auburn University. The two became roommates, soccer teammates, and, along with Rebecca Duncan, part of an inseparable trio.

“She was extremely ambitious and could accomplish anything she put her mind to,” Shoyer said. “One minute she’s getting her seaplane pilot’s license and the next she’s a snowboard instructor in Steamboat. She did everything with such ease.”

The friends had a phrase for it. “We always said she was cool as a cucumber,” Shoyer said.

But that composure also masked a fierce work ethic. Jack Pasquella, one of Kylie’s closest friends in high school, saw both sides. “She had a sort of funny, indefatigable energy to her,” he said. “She was constantly grinding through something — the innumerable exams and flight hours — and no matter how much she complained, you knew without a doubt she’d be up early the next morning, grinding away, cracking jokes.”

Duncan saw that drive up close. When Kylie was studying for her first CFI oral exam, she handed Duncan a textbook and asked her to role-play being the instructor. They spent hours in Kylie’s tiny dorm room going over every possible question. “That’s when I realized the wealth of knowledge she possessed,” Duncan said. “I knew this was something she really, really cared about. I’m still proud of her.”

If You Can Do It, Go For It

Kylie earned her private pilot certificate in 2018 during her senior year at Lake Forest High School in Illinois, where she was also captain of the women’s varsity soccer team, before heading to Auburn University as an aviation management student.

When Auburn shut down in the spring of 2020 due to COVID-19, Kylie was two weeks from taking her instrument check ride. Her father, Geoff Murray, called Krog and asked if she could spend the summer earning a tailwheel endorsement.

Captain of women’s varsity soccer at Lake Forest High School

I said, “Geoff, your daughter has a true gift, an absolute true gift for flying. It would be a shame to waste the summer on just getting a tailwheel endorsement.”

If Kylie could come in three to five days a week, Krog believed they could finish her instrument rating, her commercial certificate, and her CFI check ride before she returned to Auburn in August. Her father’s response: “You’re absolutely crazy, but if you think you can do it, go for it.”

They did. Kylie passed her commercial check ride on a Sunday — in a J-3 Cub — took her CFI check ride on Tuesday and passed. Wednesday, they celebrated. Thursday, she went back to Auburn.

“Baby Quack“

While lots of friends knew her as “Smiley Kylie,” another nickname found her during the summer of 2021. Kylie was one of three young women instructing at Cub Air while Krog was away. Bob Lussow, who was managing daily operations, checked in with Krog regularly. “He’d always laugh, and he’d say, ‘It’s going great, Steve. These three girls, it’s like herding ducks,’” Krog recalled. And just like that, Kylie, the youngest, became Baby Quack.

Erin Brueggen, Kylie’s close friend and roommate during her time training at Cub Air, saw what made Kylie stand apart. “It’s not just that she can fly,” Brueggen said. “It’s that she can do all these other things. An athlete, a mentor, a student. She did so many things above and beyond.”

Page Zuccaro was a high schooler working on her private pilot’s license in Wisconsin when she met Kylie. She looked up to her as a young woman in aviation and quickly saw what set Kylie apart as a flight instructor. “She was a very nurturing instructor that had lots of practical advice for any given situation,” Zuccaro said. “She was able to read people very well and understand what kind of direction they needed, which is a very important skill that not everyone has when it comes to being a CFI.”

Zuccaro remembers small gestures that revealed who Kylie was. She kept Dove chocolates at the airport as a pick-me-up for students who needed one. She made it clear that progress in flight training required you to keep going and keep trying. “She was very encouraging and motivating, which made her easy to be around and a great figure to look up to,” Zuccaro said.

Kylie instructed about 17 students at Cub Air. When students struggled, her friends said she had a consistent message for them: “You’ve got this, and I’m proof that it’s possible.”

Alaska

Everyone who knew Kylie knew about her plan. She was going to be a bush pilot in Alaska.

“I always thought it was the coolest thing,” Pasquella said. “It seemed like a total pipe dream in high school, but in college I realized she was actually going to make it happen.”

She passed all five of her FAA check rides on the first attempt.

Her Alaska floatplane instructor later remarked, “Kylie was a very kind soul and an incredible pilot. I knew right away that she was someone who enjoyed flying in its purest form.”

A Promise to Inspire

After the accident, Krog made a promise to Kylie’s mother, Lisa Murray, that Kylie would never be forgotten.

Krog renamed the flight school Kylie’s Cub Air Flight in her honor. Together with Brueggen, they launched an annual Girls Can Fly Day to introduce young women to aviation careers, and nine attendees have gone on to fly professionally or are on their way. Four scholarships now carry Kylie’s name.

Duncan, reflecting on her roommate years later, said the loss has carried something unexpected alongside the grief. “I know other pilots, and they don’t come close to having that same passion in their eyes that Kylie did,” she said. “That’s what helped me and a lot of people find and stay in peace after her accident.”

Kylie once described two types of flight instructors to her students: the ones who are just building time, and the ones who love the experience. There was never any question which one she was. On the quiet days, when the last student had gone home and the sun was dropping toward the horizon, she would strap into a Cub and go fly — just to take it all in one more time.